#Mens waxing salon in london

[fayes-fics]

Textual Encounter

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Text fic. Wrong number meet-cute over text.

Warnings: none... this is fluff and humour.

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Fic request fill for Anon (HERE). I kept it fun and fluffy, but yeah, I can see a sequel where they sext. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy! <3

Y/N: Hey Liz, it’s y/n y/l/n. Kindle Spa gave me your mobile. Said you had moved to another salon. I don’t trust anyone else to wax me tbh. Big date this week, kwim 😉 Can I get an appt? I’ll come to you. Doesn’t matter where. 

BB: Errr, I think you have the wrong number…

Y/N: Not Liz?

BB: Nope, Ben here. 

Y/N: Not a waxer, I presume?

BB: I may have waxed lyrical in my time, may even have lit a few candles. Have not waxed anyone no - my own body or anyone else’s. Yet. But I’m game to try anything once...

Y/N: Lol.

BB: Big date, eh?

Y/N: ….Yeah. Not that it's any of your business, stranger Ben.

BB: Fair. BB: Does it hurt?

Y/N: ??

BB: Getting waxed.

Y/N: Oh. Yeah. Like a motherfucker. But you sorta get used to it, tbh. And it’s so much less itchy than shaving regrowth, especially in sensitive areas… Wait, why am I having this convo with a complete stranger?!

BB: We don’t have to be strangers. BB: I’m Ben, 33, London. BB: I have no strong opinions on hair removal methods.

Y/N: lol. K. I’m y/n, 28, also London. Y/N: I, as you can see, do have some opinions.

BB: Hi y/n 👋 BB: I hope you can find Liz. Or someone else to assist with your hair needs.

Y/N: I would like it stated, for the record, I’m not hairy like a troll. I just like to keep things neat.

BB: The lady doth protest too much…

Y/N: You are cheeky for a stranger.

BB: Hey, I thought we agreed. Not strangers. Me Ben. You hairy troll.

Y/N: BLOCK.

BB: Just typing it doesn't work, you know.

Y/N: You should work at the Apple Genius Bar.

BB: Hmm, possibly. I do look good in blue. Or so I've been told.

Y/N: Always glad to provide career counselling.

BB: 🫡

4 days later.

BB: How’d your date go?

Y/N: That's odd. I don’t see a Genius Bar appt in my calendar…?

BB: iCal is a lying bastard. BB: I also assume you now can move faster through water.

Y/N: ??

BB: Waxed smooth like a dolphin…?

Y/N: 😆 Y/N: Entirely none of your business, but yes, actually. Well mostly. I leave some. Why am I telling you this?! Y/N: The guy was such a dud tho, I didn't get to show it off 🙁

BB: Please don't stop on my account. This is just delightful.  BB: I apologise on behalf of all men.

Y/N: For what?

BB: Having 4 sisters, I find the safest answer here is usually… everything, of course.  BB: But specifically, your rubbish date.

Y/N: Apology conditionally accepted. Y/N: 4 sisters?! 

BB: Only conditional? What do I gots to do to make it unconditional? BB: Yeah, I know… I’ve got 3 brothers too. My parents were really into each other. 

Y/N: IDK, serve a mean martini? Y/N: Understatement.

BB: That could be arranged. I took an online mixology course during lockdown.  BB: My sister El declared I'm better than Stanley Tucci. Admittedly, that was after 4 espresso martinis… but I'm taking it. She's opinionated but the best one. They are a weird bunch tho 🤔

Y/N: WOAH WOAH WOAH. That's a bold claim.

BB: Well, there’s only one way to dispute it: try one for yourself…

Y/N: Smooth, Genius Bar, smooth.

BB: I do my best 🤷

1 day later.

Y/N: I can't get my AirPods to work.

BB: You do realise I didn’t actually follow your career advice?

Y/N: Urgh. Inconvenient. What use are you then?

BB: As I said. Cocktails. I’ll try my hand at waxing if you want.

Y/N: Best stick to the day job. Which is…?

BB: Graphic design.

Y/N: Oh, that’s quite cool. 

BB: It pays the bills. You?

Y/N: MI-5

BB: Wow, you're a shit spy.

Y/N: It could be an excellent double bluff…

BB:

Y/N: Oh, we’ve graduated to memes now, have we, Genius Bar?

BB: It was called for.

Y/N: I’ll take it. Purely cos it's a Hemsworth.

BB: I would too, tbh.

Y/N: Bi?

BB: For a Hemsworth? Always.

Y/N: Anyone else?

BB: I’ll keep you posted.

Y/N: I'm on the edge of my seat.

3 days later.

BB: Oscar Issac.

Y/N: Good non sequitur evening to you, too, Genius Bar Ben.

BB: For the bi thing.

Y/N: Ahh. Got it. I can respect that.

BB: This is me, btw: www.instagram.com/benbridgerdesign.  BB: Figured you can decide for yourself if I'm a creeper.

Y/N: Appreciated.

3 minutes later.

Y/N: You paint?

BB: I dabble

Y/N: Modesty will only make me like you more.

BB: You like me?! 🥹

Y/N: You didn't mention you were handsome.

BB: There is no way to respond to that without me sounding like a twat.

BB: But thank you 😊

Y/N: This is me: www.instagram.com/ynhandle 

7 minutes later.

BB: Oh, Amalfi is so beautiful, isn't it?

Y/N: Wow. That's a deep cut. How far did you scroll back??

BB: 👀

Y/N: Yeah, it's beautiful. Shame it's tainted for me now. Was there with an ex.

BB: I saw. Very handsome.

Y/N: Are you sure you're not just into men full-stop?

BB: 🤷 BB: You’re very pretty, too.

Y/N: I’d believe it if you didn't mention my “very handsome” ex first…

BB: I call it like I see it. BB: I have had 4 whiskeys, tho, so make of that what you will.

Y/N: On a school night?!

BB: It’s my brother Ant's birthday. This is like non-optional drunk, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Happy birthday to him. 

BB: He says thanks. He’s also told me to get off my fucking phone. Which is rich. He is texting his wife nonstop.

Y/N: Hah! Safe travels through Whiskeytown, BenBridger 🫡

BB: I kinda miss Genius Bar…. 😞

Y/N: I can't win…

2 days later.

BB: Settle an argument for me.

Y/N: 🍿

BB: Col, younger brother, never stops eating... He claims Katz Deli is overrated. I argue it's touristy but still good. You’ve been. Where do you sit on this matter?

Y/N: You really did go thru my Insta, didn't you?? Y/N: Thanks for the follow, BTW.

BB: It's a compliment, I assure you. BB: Welcome. And same.

Y/N: Not complaining. And yeah, I agree with you, actually.

BB: Hah! Excellent!!

Y/N: Wait… your older brother is Ant, and your younger brother is Col? You’re Ben. So, like ABC?

BB:  … I already warned you my family was weird.

Y/N: You did. You did.

BB: Now, please excuse me while I go gloat.

Y/N: 👍

5 mins later.

BB: Hi. This is Col. You must be the famous y/n. Ben’s in the bogs, and the mug left his phone on the table unlocked, so this is on him.  BB: He like really likes you. Like a lot. Will you go on a date with him pls? 

Y/N: Err, ok, hi Col. Y/N: Umm, I think Ben should be the one to ask me that. Don’t you?

BB: He’s too scared you’ll say no.

Y/N: I won't…

BB: EXCELLENT.

2 minutes later.

BB: I am so SO sorry about that 😬 He’s such a shit. BB: But… do you mean it?

Y/N: Ask me properly…

BB: Would you, y/n, like to go on a date with me? Please?

Y/N: I would be delighted to Ben. 😀

BB: 🙏 BB: Are you free on Thursday? Could I take you to dinner?

Y/N: Sounds wonderful. 

BB: 7pm? Meet at Picadilly Circus? By Brasserie Zedel?

Y/N: I’ll be there 😀

BB: 😀

10 days later.

BB: I think you should know… Liz is an artiste 😮‍💨

Y/N: Stop texting me from my bed, you dork. 😘 Y/N: How do you take your coffee?

BB: I'm like 10 meters away. Why not just ask me?

Y/N: You started this, Genius Bar…

BB: Come back to bed, Mostly Hairless Troll.

Y/N: I asked for that, didn't I? 🤦

Benedict taglist, pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[striphairremovalexperts]

Soho's Premier Laser Hair Removal: Strip Hair Removal Experts

Experience top-notch laser hair removal in Soho with Strip Hair Removal Experts. Achieve silky-smooth skin with advanced technology and trusted professionals. Say goodbye to unwanted hair hassle-free. Book your appointment today.

[danugur06]

Effortless Elegance: Experience Laser Hair Removal in London

In the cosmopolitan city of London, where style and sophistication abound, individuals are turning to the latest beauty trend that offers a lasting solution to unwanted hair – laser hair removal. This Laser hair removal London innovative and virtually painless procedure has become a go-to option for those seeking smooth, hair-free skin without the hassles of traditional hair removal methods.

London, with its diverse population and eclectic fashion scene, has embraced laser hair removal as a convenient and effective way to achieve long-term hair reduction. Unlike waxing, shaving, or plucking, laser hair removal targets the hair follicles directly, inhibiting future growth and providing a smoother, more enduring result.

Hair And Beauty Salon London process involves the use of advanced laser technology that emits highly concentrated light into the hair follicles. The pigment in the follicles absorbs the light, effectively destroying the hair and preventing regrowth. Laser hair removal is suitable for various areas of the body, including the face, legs, underarms, and bikini line, offering a versatile solution for both men and women.

One of the key advantages of laser hair removal in London is the efficiency and speed of the procedure. In just a few sessions, clients can experience a significant reduction in hair growth, saving time and effort compared to routine shaving or waxing. Additionally, the precision of the laser ensures that surrounding skin remains undamaged, resulting in a more comfortable and safer experience.

Laser hair removal London clinics offer personalized consultations, tailoring treatment plans to individual skin types and hair colors. This attention to detail ensures optimal results and client satisfaction. With the city's dynamic lifestyle, laser hair removal provides the perfect solution for those looking to streamline their beauty routines and maintain a polished, effortlessly elegant appearance in the heart of London. Step into a world of smooth, hair-free confidence with laser hair removal, where modern technology meets timeless style.

[julisebeautytherapy]

Beauty Therapist in Berwick

A beauty therapist performs a variety of treatments on clients. This includes facials, manicures and pedicures, waxing, and massage. They also provide advice on skincare and makeup. This career offers a flexible schedule and good pay.

Olier Spa is a beauty salon in London with a team of experienced beauticians. They offer a range of classic treatments, including eyelash extensions and brow lamination.

Brazilian Butterfly Berwick

Brazilian Butterfly Berwick offers the ultimate in beauty therapist in Berwick treatments right here in the heart of Berwick. Their experienced professionals provide super smooth, soft skin and you can book your appointment online any time you like. Whether you're looking for waxing, IPL hair removal and skin treatments or spray tanning, they've got you covered. Visit them today at 5/4-6 Wheeler St, Berwick.

Looking bronzed, hairless and fabulous for the beach? Look no further than Brazilian Butterfly Epping, offering a wide range of services including waxing and spray tans. Visit them today to get the bronzed body you've always wanted! Prices are subject to change.

Studio Soleil Beauty Salon

Whether you’re looking for a quick touch-up or a full makeup transformation, Studio Soleil Beauty Salon is the place to go. Their professional makeup artists have an unmatched eye for beauty and aesthetics and can help you achieve any look you want. They also know how to bring out your best features and enhance your natural beauty therapist.

Studio Soleil is a gender-inclusive salon for all peoples and does not tolerate homophobia, transphobia, racism or xenophobia in any form. The salon is located on the one-way street Forth Street in North Berwick, just opposite the Auld Hoose. It’s only a short walk from the beach, harbour and Seabird Centre.

The salon’s prices are slightly higher than other local salons, but the quality of work and service make it worth the extra cost.

Wellness Oasis

The self-described one-stop shop for a decidedly vast array of offerings, Wellness Oasis offers everything from CBD facials and body massages to venik platza (an ancient Russian bathing ritual that involves getting whacked with leafy bundles of aromatic tree branches). In addition to the typical services, it also houses an ancient Egyptian-themed spa with pillars etched with hieroglyphics and a hammam that envelopes patrons in rejuvenating eucalyptus inhalation steam.

This enchanting oasis is where New York City goes to spa. Located on Governors Island, the spa features over 20 wellness spa experiences that are sure to leave you refreshed and renewed. To make the most of your visit, arrive 60 minutes prior to your treatment. This gives you time to enjoy the exclusive spa pools and relax before your appointment begins. The spa also has a tea lounge and private relaxation rooms that you can use while enjoying your treatment. Guests are encouraged to bring their own swimsuits and towels.

Helen Mulloy Reid

Helen Mulloy Reid is a beauty & holistic body therapist, aromatherapist, make up artist & yoga teacher who offers a personalised well-being service for women, men & teens at her beautiful beauty studio in the seaside town of North Berwick. Her tempting range of beautifully devised beauty treatments include facials, brow & lash services, manicures, pedicures, waxing, massage & pregnancy treatments using carefully chosen organic, natural & vegan product ranges specially designed to enhance your natural beauty therapist Melbourne.

You can book your treatment online at her website and choose from a menu of services that includes manicures, pedicures, nail extensions, waxing, massages, and facials. Prices start at £50 and vary according to the type of service you need. All treatments are performed by Helen in her own beautiful and inviting spa. Her natural calming aura and grounding energy will help you to relax and feel soothed in mind, body and soul. She wants you to be your own kind of beautiful and will help you look and feel fabulous from the inside out.

[justwaxituniverse]

Best Mens waxing salon in London | Justwaxit  

We provide Men's Waxing salon in London with super quick waxing. We are highly hygiene, we take care of beds cleanness with medical grade disinfectant, Wearing disposable glows as well. Our men's grooming Offers are for our male client look best at all times. We have highly specialized and experienced therapist in all waxing techniques. We offer Men's Back wax, chest and shoulder waxing to our male clients. Just achieve the body you deserve.

[kalonparlour-blog]

PhiBrows Microblading at Kalon Parlour because we stan natural fluffy brows.

With natural brows being the current IT look, we are here to give you the perfect shape at Kalon Parlour.

PhiBrows is a special technique of microblading that involves mapping and shaping of the brows using Phimorphy methods. This creates the perfect shape for natural looking brows.

For more a complimentary consultation with our Brow Specialist for this service, please reach out.

[bestmassagerapidcity]

How to Locate Your Best Massage Therapist

Massage has become 1 of the most well-liked treatment options more than the previous number of a long time and the need to have for a very good therapeutic massage is only rising as a lot more of our perform and even some of our social routines are desk or computer dependent.

When I 1st educated in therapeutic massage remedy in the early 90's, customers would typically visit the salon or spa for waxing, facials or for slimming therapies.

Rapid city massage  Therapeutic massage was a single of the treatments which were regarded as becoming a luxurious or a specific treat as soon as in a blue moon.

I have to acknowledge again then daily life was really different for individuals generally, several consumers would have a secretary or assistant to kind up function. For some, once you concluded operate that was it as there was no email messages to examine as not everyone experienced the net. Very few people had laptops so sitting down on the couch or in mattress while working was quite nominal and last but not least 'Googling' and social networking was in close proximity to non-existent.

Coming in these days items have transformed. Numerous no longer have secretary's so they have to offer with admin themselves, most perform is carried out on the computer, some at desks and some in awkward positions even though sitting on the couch or lying in bed. Extended long gone are the times when once you remaining the business office your function would be more than, now we can be contacted on our mobiles or can verify our e-mails at residence if not on the way. Our operating day even now carries on even following we have still left the business office or even just before we have arrived at the place of work.

There are a variety of massage based treatments are accessible in clinics, spa's, salons and well being clubs. We have even observed massage in clubs, purchasing centres as well as therapeutic massage therapists who come to the perform area.

With so numerous places offering massage, how do you know which is the ideal area to go and how can you explain to if you are very likely to get a good therapeutic massage?

one) On the internet Evaluations

Firstly, online evaluations are a excellent way of discovering out about what people have to say about a specific organization. Do bear in brain though, occasionally the reviews may possibly be something adverse about the institution or 1 member of workers so you could perhaps overlook a great massage from an additional member of workers who hasn't been reviewed. Also there is a saying which goes 'a customer who has experienced a negative experience will notify 5 men and women but if they've experienced excellent experience they may possibly not even tell a soul'. So often you can not often get a real sign no matter whether you will get a 'good' massage remedy or not from a overview.

two) Skills

A good massage therapist will have the pursuing qualifications: NVQ degree three, HND Well being & Splendor, ITEC, CIBTAC or CIDESCO, there probably other recognised bodies way too but check out whether they have a qualification and not just a workshop certificate. Anatomy and physiology is a massive portion of the coaching as knowing the muscular program, skeletal technique and their functions can make the big difference in the high quality of therapeutic massage.

Licence

Companies within a lot of area's especially London can not work with out a valid therapeutic massage license. In specific borough's even the therapist wants to be licenced. The only way a therapist can get licenced is if they have the appropriate qualification. Occasionally you can see the premises license exhibited on the wall.

Medical Questionnaire & Consultation

Your massage therapist need to inquire you to fill in a fundamental health care questionnaire to establish any healthcare problems which could stop you from obtaining massage. For example any latest injuries or functions, wounds, bacterial infections and so on. For specified situations you can even now have a massage but could want prepared permission from your Medical professional that its Alright to nevertheless have therapeutic massage.

If you are in your very first trimester of pregnancy, its a good idea not to have therapeutic massage and a expert therapist will know this should they see it on your consultation form.

Consultation time is also a fantastic time to establish what your main concerns are or if there are any area's you would like your therapeutic massage therapist to function most on. Its also a time to make sure you have been booked in for the proper variety of massage for you, for case in point you may possibly have been booked in for a 'Swedish Massage' but possibly wanting a 'Deep Tissue' massage.

five) Your Therapeutic massage Therapist

At times the size or age of a therapeutic massage therapist can be decieving. I am five ft and only 6 and a fifty percent stone but i am use to massaging bodybuilders so my force is extremely powerful even although I look quite modest. Therapeutic massage therapists create their stress by making use of a combination of toughness as properly as their very own entire body weight to perform a good company therapeutic massage.

Also i've educated a amount of 18 12 months olds who are just as great as massage therapists who have several years of expertise. It is dependent on how passionate your therapist is about her work. If she enjoys massage and is passionate then you will most likely have a great treatment.

six) The Therapeutic massage Treatment

Its not unheard of for modifying time to be included in your massage time so do make sure you try out to settle on to your therapy bed as speedily as possible so you get far more hands on time.

Your therapeutic massage therapist should verify if you are warm ample and relaxed ahead of they get started your therapeutic massage. Several salons and spa's have delicate calming tunes actively playing in the background which really improves the encounter.

You can frequently inform the variation between a truly very good massage therapist and one who is not as great. A truly excellent therapeutic massage therapist will be linked intuitively and will know the proper pressure to utilize, they will also know which area's require to be labored on the most with out the need to adhere to a robotic routine of just therapeutic massage actions.

Business Name: Zeitaku Foot & Massage Phone Number: +16057162496

[simplyclockwork]

Simplyclockwork Fic Recs

Alternate Universe/Crossovers

I am breaking my massive fic rec into pieces by genres.

Performance in a Leading Role - @madlori

Explicit. 156,714 words. 21 chapters.

Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

A Moment’s Surrender - anchors

Mature. 64,272 words. 10 chapters.

Sherlock tours worldwide with the English National Ballet. John dances the Lindy Hop competitively all across the globe. That they would meet, then, by the slimmest of chances in one lonely city, is pure coincidence. The whole 'dancing together' bit is a little more planned. Dancer!AU.

Love or What You Will - @miss-frankenstein

Teen and Up. 31,987 words. 11 chapters.

John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

Two Two One Bravo Baker - abudantlyqueer

Explicit. 114,574 words. 27 chapters.

Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John?

The Jewel in the Tower - PoppyAlexander (@fuckyeahfightlock)

Explicit. 207,079 words. 39 chapters.

"Xie [...] had invented an entire pleasure-industry by combining superior visual aesthetics with impeccable personal attention. Drasha salons were by that time a feature of any even half-decent house of repose in every pleasure district in the British Isles, but once upon a time, when Xie debuted, there had been only one, and Xie had named it: the Icehouse."

* In a contemporary dystopia, Unity is peace--despite the fact unsanctioned information, illicit currency, and every sort of danger flows unchecked in the world's pleasure districts.

John Watson, a weary hired gun, is assigned by the mysterious Mentor to investigate a subversive element lurking in the Icehouse, the world's most famous House of Repose. As accustomed as he is to dealing with the unexpected, John is nevertheless woefully unprepared to meet the gem of the Ice house, Xie, the world renowned "drashaskaya," the living work of art after which all other drashas are modeled.

In sumptuous suites, amid trailing puddles of silk and fervent whispers in the night, John soon learns that nothing is as it seems in the floating world of London's pleasure district. *

Modern-day dystopian/one-world government/espionage/geisha!lock AU

The Loss of Flesh and Soul - deuxexmycroft 

Explicit. 60,000+ words. Unfinished.

Five years after John Watson puts the murderous Sherlock Holmes behind bars, a vicious copycat killer emerges. A reluctant John is pulled out of retirement to seek the expertise of the only man who can help, a man who has developed an unsettling obsession with John himself.

Crossover with Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs

Simplyclockwork note: Not fully finished, but an alternative ending was posted. Still worth reading without a full ending.

I wake up and I wake up and you’re still dead - thisprettywren (memento/Sherlock crossover)

Mature. 24,226 words. One-shot.

Sherlock isn't the only one who's lost.

The Sinking of the Titanic: Sixty Years Later - flawedamythyst

Teen and Up. 15,340 words. One-shot.

John Watson is interviewed for a documentary being made for the sixtieth anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. The story he tells is not the one the interviewer was expecting.

The Bachelors’ Handfasting - Jberry

Explicit. 30,624 words. 20 chapters.

After her son is caught in a compromising position, Victoria Holmes must make arrangements for a quick marriage between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

Simplyclockwork note: Kilt!Lock and Soft Bab Sherlock (but of age)

Just to Hold You Close - @sussexbound

Explicit. 70,841 words. 18 chapters.

When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Summit Fever - @jbaillier

Mature. 78,867 words. 18 chapters.

After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I — the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains — shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

The Last Companion - standbygo (@blogstandbygo)

Explicit. 34,101 words. 14 chapters.

Thirty years after the Miranda Wars, there is peace, both on the Rim and the Core planets. There are a number of old social mores still in place, such as the Order of Companions, but there is a sense that even such respected practices are coming to an end…

Sherlock is a Companion - the best Companion on Persephone. With a bit of detective work on the side, of course. Then he meets a man named John Watson, encounters a series of bizarre cases, and finds his world is getting turned upside down.

Simplyclockwork note: Sherlock/Firefly AU!

Out There - @discordantwords

Teen and up. 131,695 words. 10 chapters.

FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

This is a fusion with The X-Files, written for the Fall TV Season Challenge.

Say You’ll Stay With Me - justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic)

Explicit. 63,349 words. 21 chapters.

It was just supposed to be an ordinary business trip, but when John's car stalls out on Hollywood Boulevard, he meets someone who just might change his life.

Simplyclockwork note: Pretty Woman/Sherlock AU.

Gimme Shelter - @sincewhendoyoucallme-john

Explicit. 159,368 words. 21 chapters.

All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair.

That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

Apokalypsis - songlin

Mature. 12,125 words. 4 chapters.

There were things I never told you because I thought we had time. There is no time left in the world anymore.

Sensory Science - @sussexbound

Explicit. 80,017 words. 24 chapters.

John Watson has been invalided home from Afghanistan and is struggling with anxiety, depression, PTSD and insomnia, when an old friend from med school recommends something that might help: An ASMR YouTube Channel run by a friend.

One session in and John is hooked, not only by the way the ASMR seems to calm him after nightmares, and help him sleep, but also by the mysterious man who runs it.

Comparative Literature is for Idiots - lookupkate

Explicit. 8,173 words. 4 chapters.

Sherlock thinks he's very bohemian, smoking cigarettes and wearing patchouli oil and writing poetry in the attic. In truth he's just your average seventeen year old, not showering enough and being hit particularly hard by his continued path through puberty.

John is getting his masters in literature. He's the TA for comparative literature and yearns for romance. Romance has other plans, plans that require him to go without for at least ten more years. Plans that put in front of him the exact man he'll finally fall in love with, but in boy form.

When Sherlock happens to see John reading poetry at a coffee shop he is immediately smitten. John holds him at arm's length because he's a bloody child.

How will ten years and miles apart change that view, and will John be able to understand how he's fallen in love with someone he doesn't ever get to see?

Stay tuned for puberty hi jinx and the passing of time to find out. And yes, there will be love.

An Everlasting Inferno - thatawkwardfriend

Explicit. 108,389 words. 15 chapters.

Sherlock and John are both men who operate outside the law. John works for Mary and her hitmen in order to keep a roof over his head. Sherlock does anything his drug dealer asks of him in exchange for free drugs and housing.

They meet one night in a darkened garage to negotiate a deal. But they soon find out that neither of their bosses are being entirely honest with them about their goals or motives. With a little poking around, they stumble upon something much bigger than themselves and discover that perhaps, it might be in their best interests to work together.

(Loosely inspired by StartUp and Little Favour)

Only To Be With You - @sincewhendoyoucallme-john

Mature. 40,768 words. 4 chapters.

I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black.

I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

You Give Me Fever - michi_thekiller

Explicit. 16,122 words. One-shot.

Thou givest fever when we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth Fever I'm afire; fever, yea, I burn forsooth "He's the kind of boy you want to take apart."

Gratuitous Greaserlock. It's essentially 16k of mostly-porn. Warnings for underage sex between teens.

If you’re one of the authors listed here and have a Tumblr, and would like me to link it (if I haven’t already), please let me know! 

[pynkhues]

I’m sure you’ve already gotten a bunch of asks since Manny’s Crime King interview! I’m just like confused about him saying he’s enamored by her world but honestly like how is his different (besides his obvious commitment to the game) he lives in a nice loft, takes his kid to baseball, drives a fancy car, and plays tennis at the club. It’s not like he’s living the life of a thug. I guess I’m not getting the exact contrast of their worlds.

(Rest of my ask) I’m probably missing some obvious point here which is why I’m asking you lol helllppp

I do think Rio’s enamoured with Beth’s world, yes! I think that really boils down to the fact that while on paper Beth and Rio aren’t living dissimilar lives in terms of their roles as parents, and while they obviously now share parts of the criminal world, I do think the show is actually pretty specific in how it represents those worlds, particularly in terms of the masculine / feminine, and how a part of the curiosity around each other is in viewing one another as a key that both compliments their own world, while also unlocking the other’s one for them.

The gendering of spaces in storytelling – but particularly films and TV is, hilariously, a topic that I’m incredibly passionate about and have both written it a lot in my original work, and written about it a lot for magazines, journals and media sites (I’m actually writing an essay at the moment for a literary journal about LGBTQI cinema and how lesbian romances are highly domesticised [i.e. Portrait of a Lady on Fire, The Handmaiden, The Favourite, The Kids are Alright] while gay romances are usually very pointedly about keeping away from domestic spaces, moving and traveling [i.e. Brokeback Mountain, The Talented Mr Ripley, Moonlight, Midnight Cowboy, even Call Me By Your Name is heavily focused on being Americans abroad aka away from home] but that all feels like a different story, haha).

Luckily for me, Good Girls is actually about as obsessed with the gendering of spaces as I am. It’s a major, major throughline throughout the show for many of the characters, but particularly Beth and Rio, and their intrigue with the other’s spaces – her interest in his powerful, highly masculine one, and his with her deceptively innocent, strongly feminine one – is really central to their intrigue with each other more broadly.

So to talk about this, we probably need a little bit of context.

(Under a cut because this is literally 4,000 words)

Gendering Spaces in Cinema

It’s probably not a surprise to anyone here, but places and spaces in stories are about as gendered – if not more gendered – as they are in daily life. In particular, cinema’s visual and textual language has historically been very clear:

The inside is female. The outside is male.

This concept has really been around since the beginning of cinema but became very popularised through Westerns in the late 1920s onwards, and really underlined by war films particularly during propaganda cinema in WWII. Men are outside, battling the elements and other men, claiming land, building outwards, while women are at home – either literally or figuratively (if they’re actually out at war, like in the utterly fabulous So Proudly We Hail!, they’re at the ‘home base’ as nurses) – building inwards. Men protect the home while women create it.

Westerns feature these images very potently and very literally. Almost every single western dating back to the 1910s will have some combination of these two shots:

a)       Woman at home, looking out into the wild:

b)      Man leaving home, stepping out into the wild:

(These two stills are from John Ford’s The Searchers which is generally regarded as one of the greatest Westerns of all time. It’s………very racist and misogynistic, as many were and still are, but in terms of technicality and visual language, it’s a very well-made film, albeit not one I enjoyed).

The purpose at the time, of course, was steeped in historic sexism and invested in maintaining that culture, particularly westerns and war films which are heavily devoted to ‘macho’ narratives. Women were passive, men were active, but these images really set the stage for how the ideas of ‘space’ continues to exist in cinema. A fact that’s bolstered by broader social discourses that still exist today – schools, grocery stores, laundromats are inherently ‘female’ spaces because they are seen as an extension of the home, while police stations, car dealerships, warehouses, are inherently ‘male’ spaces because they’re about work, protecting and providing for a home, and being pointedly outside of that domestic space aka ‘the wild’. It’s not an accident that the girls are robbing grocery stores and day spas, but I’ll get back to that, haha.

These ideas of gendered spaces underpin everything we watch, no matter the genre.

Sure, these ideas can be subverted to varying degrees of effectiveness (often it’s steeped in my least favourite trope – the ‘not like other girls’ heroine), but you can’t subvert a trope without actually acknowledging it exists. Sometimes these subversions are done brilliantly too – like in Legally Blonde which was not just about Elle existing in a space that was quintessentially coded as male, but embracing her femininity and womanhood within that space; and often brutally too in films like Winter’s Bone, Room and The Nightingale which all brutalise women in ‘male spaces’ while simultaneously weaponizing female spaces against them – usually the home. The lead character of Winter’s Bone is going to lose her house unless her absent father shows up in court, the lead character of Room creates a home that is simultaneously a sanctuary and a mockery of a sanctuary to try and protect her son from reality and survive, the lead character of The Nightingale has her home invaded, her husband and baby murdered, and is horrifically raped within that home.

Hometown Horror: a divergence

This is a slight aside to where I’m going with this overall, but please indulge me, haha. I’m a big fan of horrors and thrillers, which explore this in a really stark way. In that, the invasion of a home or a domestic space – whether by ghost, demon or serial killer, is, generally speaking, synonymous with the invasion of a woman’s body and the violation of her as a person.

Films that focus on a female survivor or a ‘final girl’ are very generally focused on the invasion of her home as much as it’s focused on the invasion of her body. Think The Exorcist, Rosemary’s Baby, Scream, The Babadook, Hereditary, The Conjuring, Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Panic Room. The violation of a woman’s home is the invasion of her, because cinema relies on over 100 years of movies telling us that a house and the woman who lives in it are symbolically the same thing.

Horror films that focus on men are very rarely centred in the home. It’s men travelling, or men visiting a woman’s home, or men who’ve been taken. Think of the first Saw movie which takes place in a mysterious basement, Hostel which is at a hostel, Dawn of the Dead at a shopping mall, An American Werewolf in London while two men are on holiday, The Evil Dead is in a cabin, Get Out is at his girlfriend’s family home.

There are exceptions, of course! Family home invasion films like The Purge, Funny Games and The Strangers are rooted in the violation of that home, but still. You’ll generally find that it manifests differently narratively speaking for men and women. Rear Window too takes place entirely in a man’s apartment – but it’s interesting to note that most of the ‘horror’ comes from him spying on somebody else’s home – notably a woman’s, The Descent too is very much about women and is set during cave diving. Still! These are all exceptions, not the rule.

Good Girls and Gendered Spaces

Every single space in Good Girls is gendered. It’s actually one of the things I seriously love about the show because it’s thoughtfully done, and it is deliberate. We know it is, because they tell us explicitly in the writing multiple times. I mean – hell, think of Ruby telling us (well, telling Rio, haha) way back at the end of 1.04 when they’re selling him on the idea of washing cash through Cloud 9 – “Nobody thinks twice about a woman buying her husband a TV or new tires for the minivan.” A store like that is gendered, and Ruby’s reinforcing it by saying it’s a place women go to build a home. It hasn’t been weaponized yet - - but our girls know how to weaponize it. They’re playing on the fact that people think women’s spaces are effectively impotent, and they’re telling Rio – and us as an audience – that they’re going to exploit it.

This is an idea the show revisits frequently. Women’s spaces are – both in life and in storytelling – spaces that are viewed as passive because they are representative of women, and what the show is – I believe – very invested in, is showing how those spaces are fundamentally active. If you want a house to represent a woman – well, okay. Then you get to see what’s under the rug, y’know?

I’m going to come back to the home thread – because I really do think it’s very important, and I think the way the show depicts people in those spaces (and invading those spaces) is significant – but it’s not just homes that are looked at in this way. The show is very specific about having feminine spaces and masculine spaces, with only a few in between (and usually those in-between spaces are very specifically for Stan and Ruby, showing just how in-sync they are with each other and how much they operate within a shared space). Beyond the women’s homes, there are the kids’ schools, Fine & Frugal (very important here to note that Annie emasculates Boomer in what is an associated female space and that he retaliates by attempting to rape her in her own home aka not only another female space, but a space that is symbolically Annie, something he repeats later with Mary Pat – a violation on essentially every character, narrative and symbolic level, again), the waxing salon, Nancy’s day spa, Jane’s dance recital (and actually the physical object of the dubby – being a highly feminine object lost in a very masculine space), and already what we know of s3, with Ruby being at a nail salon and Beth being at a paper / card store.

The show also has very masculinized places – I’d argue Boland Motors is one of the biggest ones – very much about ‘boys and their toys’, which is why Beth pointedly feminising it when she takes over is so significant and symbolically indicative of Beth’s claiming of that space; but also spaces like the police station, the drug dealer’s house in 2.07, the hotel suite Boomer briefly occupies, even to an extent the church. When the girls are in these spaces, there’s a distinct feeling of encroaching on territory that isn’t theirs, or being in spaces that they don’t belong in. This is often done as a two-hander too – the police station and the church Ruby doesn’t belong in anymore, not necessarily as a woman, but as a criminal.

Nothing though, from a technical standpoint, is more masculine than the spaces that are shown to be Rio’s. From the warehouse spaces to the bar to his loft to his car, Rio’s ‘places’ are distinctly masculine and generally placed in direct contrast with Beth’s femininity. But I’ll come back to that point too.

Home, Identity and Invasion

Almost every female character on this show has a very defined domestic space, from Beth, Ruby and Annie, to Mary Pat, Marion and Nancy. These spaces are representative of not just who they are, but who they are as women, and really comes to routinely represent the interior lives of these characters. This is probably the clearest in 2.09 when Beth is uncharacteristically messy following Dean taking their kids, and in 2.06, when Beth and Dean switch roles, and Dean is incapable of maintaining that domestic space because it’s not his. But let’s not start there.

Let’s start with Annie.

Annie’s apartment is fun, feminine (but not overly so), youthful, sweet, and generally a bit of organized chaos. It’s often underequipped – there are several mentions of the pantry being understocked – but it’ll always do in a pinch. More than anything though, Annie’s apartment comes to life when her son is in it. She’s happiest when he’s there, and when he’s not, her loneliness drives her to pulling people into the space with her, whether that’s the electronics guy, Greg, or Noah.

This is particularly significant when Annie’s forming bonds with people. The show has symbolically relied very heavily on Annie’s moments of vulnerability and connection being grounded in her apartment or an extension of it – usually her car. There was her reconnecting with Greg over YouTube videos in s1, there was Nancy and her talking about pregnancy in 2.02, and there was Noah settling in across season 2. These are all substantial moments in terms of Annie’s interior life that are represented through her home – she lets them all in. Which is why it’s significant what people do when they are in. Particularly the show marrying Noah getting to know Annie while simultaneously rifling through her belongings, trying to know specific things about her.

This is only reiterated by Noah’s scenes with Sadie later in the season – always at home, reiterating just how much Noah’s invaded Annie’s life, how much he’s inside her, how much he’s using everything and everyone who’s important to her, and how much he’s a threat to all of that too.

Ruby and Stan are a little different. Ruby’s house is the only one that’s genuinely shared with somebody, and the show represents this across the board – Ruby and Stan wear similar colours, the house feels like theirs, and the parts of their worlds that are separate are still frequently pretty defined by each other (even when Ruby’s acting away form Stan, the show makes it clear that Stan’s at the forefront of her mind, and vice versa). This indicates their partnership, but the house really still is symbolically tied to Ruby. This is particularly represented by the effect of having Turner in the house, but, more than that, it’s underlined symbolically by Turner arresting Stan at home. If the home symbolically carries the meaning of the woman, Turner arresting Stan there is starkly about Turner taking Stan away from Ruby. That image would not hold the same weight if he was arrested at, say, the park or the police station, because the locations don’t hold the same meaning.

It’s also why there’s significance in Stan and Turner’s showdown narratively speaking happening at the police station. It needs to, because symbolically it should occupy a masculine-coded space, because that showdown isn’t just about who they are as people, but who they are as men.

Beth and Beth’s house is very, very different to Annie and Ruby’s, and holds a more substantial narrative and symbolic function. From the very first episode, the potential of losing her house is key to her arc, and key to her identity as a character.

Beth is a lot of things, but a recurring image with her as a character is that she is invested in projecting a dated idea of ‘perfect womanhood’, and, within that, actually pretty perfectly creates parts of it for herself. For Beth – as somebody who was a housewife for roughly twenty years – her house really is her in every sense of the word. Every threat to that house, every disruption, every wrinkle, every intrusion, every theft, every invitation is personal. Dean might have at least two rooms in the Boland House, but that space is Beth’s on almost every symbolic level. When people pop into it, it’s a direct invasion of her.

This is something that the show has revisited time and time again, particularly when it comes to Beth’s bedroom. When people want to be close to Beth, that’s where they go. Annie slept there across season one when she was vulnerable and lonely, despite Beth telling her to go home, Jane broke into Beth’s closet there when she felt she was being neglected, Dean’s constantly trying to sidle into it (and – pointedly – only really in it when they’re fighting and Beth is revealing something / letting him in on something – that they’re out of money, that she has Rio’s money, that she knows about his affairs). When Beth has been at her most vulnerable, she lets Ruby and Annie into it. That said, the only character who’s been explicitly invited into it has been Rio – significantly both in fantasy, and in the show’s reality.

It’s not just about inviting people in though – when she kicks somebody out of it, the act is loaded.

She’s not just pushing somebody out of a space, she’s pushing them out of her.

It’s not just her bedroom of course (although I do think that’s the most significant space on perhaps the whole show). Rio and Turner between them have regularly invaded Beth’s living room, dining room, her kitchen, her yard. These are often distinctly tied with her doing something domestic and / or distinctly feminine. She’s bringing groceries home, she’s baking, she’s trying on jewellery, she’s mothering her children. Symbolically, this is often when Rio and Turner both are at their most masculine and their most threatening, which just serves to underline the invasion of Beth’s space.

It’s not just the girls though, as I said above. Female domestic spaces on this show are significantly coded as belonging to women, even if they share those spaces. Think about Nancy and Greg’s house – which is Nancy’s space, not Greg’s, and throughout season 1, Annie was pitted as the outsider to that. She’s a smear of hair oil on Nancy’s perfect couch. It’s made all the starker when Nancy kicks Greg out, and when Annie helps Nancy give birth in that house – a distinctly female, intimate act, that not only operates as a significant feminization of that space, but also about Annie fighting for Nancy to let her in again.

These spaces all keep secrets for the women they belong to too – Mary Pat’s husband’s dead body, Boomer’s very much alive one – because, again, symbolically, they are these women.

Rio’s loft is a really interesting one to look at in this context, because not only is it hyper masculine, but the show underlines that it does not hold the same significance that the girls’ places have for them. Beth does not learn Rio by being inside him – something made stark through their game of twenty questions. In fact, being in Rio’s loft, in his space, only serves to point out how much Beth doesn’t know him. Not only that, but Beth’s inability to lose her house (which is really central to her arc) is paralleled exactly with how easily Rio can separate from his.

The domestic space is not male.

Rio exists outside of it.

Beth x Rio and the Feminine x Masculine

Rio and Beth are basically at polar opposites of the masculine / feminine spectrum, and it’s something that this show often casts in a really stark light through dialogue, visual language, character coding and symbolism.

Beth epitomizes the old archetype of femininity and the female world in a way that I don’t think Annie and Ruby do (although I do think Ruby does in some respects). This is coded into almost every part of her character – from her long history of domestic servitude and marital submission (letting Dean control their finances, not working, keeping the house, etc.) to her fertility (four children!) to the way she dresses in floral, bakes, to certain traits, namely her nurturing tendencies, overt empathy and guilt (not being able to kill Boomer). Even in terms of the casting – Christina is somebody who has a very distinctly feminine body.  

On the other hand, Rio, in many ways, epitomizes the old idea of masculinity and the masculine world. He’s coded that way almost as much as Beth is coded as feminine – he’s physically strong (beating up Dean, holding Beth up while they were having sex), assertive, dominant, capable and collected. That’s not even touching on the fact that the golden gun is incredibly phallic, haha.

The show loves to place Beth’s femininity in direct contrast with Rio’s masculinity in a way that it doesn’t do with the other girls or – in fact perhaps more notably – with Beth and Dean (if anything, Dean’s frequently emasculated around Beth, but that feels like a whole other thing, haha), and it does this frequently, and often even in the same shot.

Most notably, think of her pearls on the warehouse door handle:

Their cars parked side-by-side:

Her necklace, his gun:

Her light, his darkness:

Her floral, his solid colours:

Interestingly though, these things are very rarely in competition or combative (although occasionally they are – Rio trying to use her femaleness and his maleness / their sexuality to literally bend her over a table in 2.06 being the clearest example of that). Generally speaking, the show’s visual language though shows us how these things compliment each other. They occupy different gendered spaces, so they can ‘crime’ in different ways – Beth using the big box stores, the secret shoppers, robbing the day spa, are all things that are highly feminised, and give Rio by proxy access to a world he ordinarily wouldn’t (albeit it’s not always a world he’s interested in – like it wasn’t with the botox), and the reverse of that is that Rio gives Beth access to spaces that are highly masculinised and that she ordinarily wouldn’t have access to (again, not always a world she’s interested in either). It’s why when they’re working together, and acknowledging they have different departments, they actually become something really whole, comprehensive and effective.

It’s the exploration of this that I find really intriguing generally, and particularly a thread that I think is reiterated where Beth’s usually at her worst and her most ineffective when she’s trying to emulate Rio’s masculinity. We saw that at the end of 1.10 and the start of 2.01, and I think we saw it at the tail end of season 2 too. When Beth’s succeeding, she’s typically doing something that revels in the strength and power and the underestimation of femininity and female spaces, and turns places that are typically viewed as passive into active ones.

The Secret Shoppers (which worked briefly! And fell apart because she couldn’t handle Mary Pat. Notably almost every scene with them was inside Beth’s house):

The day spa heist:

The Boland Motors takeover / reclamation that focused on feminising the place:

Pretending to be somebody’s mum to get into the kids’ space (which would’ve worked if Beth and Ruby hadn’t started fighting):

Breaking into Rio’s loft:

Again, this is something that seems to be being teased out already in s3 with the paper store and the nail salon, and I’m sure we’ll see it coming up again and again beyond that.

But yes! Your question, haha. I think Rio is enamoured with the strong, feminine space and the untapped female world that Beth exists in, and the ways that she is actively capable of utilising her femininity and her womanness in a way that is completely impossible for him. She can manipulate these spaces – either those already female, or those she makes female aka Boland Motors – in ways that he can’t, and in a way that, at the end of the day, lines his pocket, in the same way that giving her access to his powerful, masculine world lines hers. It’s market development, y’know? But it’s also something that could be a true and successful partnership if they could stop, y’know, playing games and trying to kill each other, haha.

I think it’s worth noting here too that the show has shown us explicitly that Beth absolutely gets off on Rio being highly masculine, and while I think Rio absolutely gets off on Beth being a boss bitch too, it’s also important to note how he responds to her when she’s displaying vulnerability in a way often defined as very feminine – namely crying – and how that display of femininity not only affects him, but often makes him want to touch her (and more and more, follow through on touching her).

Basically I think they’re as obsessed with the contrast between the two of them as we are, haha.  

[striphairremovalexperts]

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[dippedanddripped]

In the brief history of street culture, Hitomi Yokoyama is one of its most prominent hidden figures. If Hiroshi Fujiwara is considered the de facto “godfather of Japanese streetwear,” Yokoyama is most definitely its godmother. A contemporary of UNDERCOVER founder Jun Takahashi and Tomoaki “NIGO” Nagao — who would go on to establish A Bathing Ape and Human Made — Yokoyama was at the forefront of Tokyo’s Ura-Harajuku movement that gave rise to Japan’s cadre of covetable brands like WTAPS, Neighborhood, Bounty Hunter, and countless others.

As a teenager growing up in Tokyo’s Yotsuya neighborhood, Yokoyama became fixated with the British punk bands she saw on TV and heard on the radio. “I was listening to The Clash, Adam & The Ants, and The Sex Pistols,” she says. “The first thing in fashion I got really excited about was Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood’s clothing I saw Johnny Rotten wearing.”

It was through seminal Japanese magazines like Takarajima that she got put onto McLaren and Westwood’s Seditionaries clothing line and SEX shop in World’s End. She also discovered “Last Orgy,” an influential Takarajima column started by Hiroshi Fujiwara. It was basically a cheat sheet of what brands, bands, and trends were about to blow up.

But Yokoyama didn’t just read about what was cool — she lived it, too, exploring Tokyo’s underground nightlife at clubs like Picasso and Nabaron, which played everything from ska, rockabilly, and reggae to the hottest bands in London at the time. The scene got her close to Jun Takahashi and future Bounty Hunter founder Hikaru Iwanaga, who played in a tribute band called the Tokyo Sex Pistols, and NIGO, who sometimes stepped in as their drummer. Yokoyama remembers how the now-icons dressed at the time, recalling Takahashi as a would-be Johnny Rotten and Iwanaga as a stand-in for Sid Vicious.

“This kind of place was more like a culture school than just a club,” she says. It’s where she learned how to dress and met like-minded people who shared the same passions, like Vivienne Westwood and punk. “It was a real life social network in the days before the internet.”

NIGO and Takahashi had met at Tokyo’s prestigious Bunka Fashion College, the same institution that produced Yohji Yamamoto and Junya Watanabe. Yokoyama worked at a hair school in the neighborhood called Ciao Bambina, which doubled as a community hub for area youth, since their parents weren’t allowed in. NIGO got his hair cut there, and Yokoyama admits she used to steal a product called Rock Gel, a hard hair gel ideal for Takahashi’s avant-garde punk hairstyles.

At the same time, Takahashi and NIGO were becoming a dynamic duo in their own right. They had taken the reins of Fujiwara’s “Last Orgy” column and brought it to Popeye magazine (the newer, younger answer to Takarajima) under the moniker “Last Orgy 2.” It was clear they had the juice now, so under Fujiwara’s mentorship they turned their platform into a first-of-its-kind retail concept: NOWHERE.

Before that store opened, Yokoyama remembers the small network of streets as a neighborhood with hidden gems interspersed throughout. There was Hitomi Okawa’s MILK, Nobuhiko Kitamura’s Hysteric Glamour, and punk boutique A Store Robot, which Yokoyama frequented. But NOWHERE began the evolution of Harajuku’s backstreets into an in-the-know shopping destination. The shop launched both Takahashi’s UNDERCOVER and NIGO’s A Bathing Ape.

“Jun started making clothes on a domestic sewing machine, making one-off items. He was a genius at an early age,” remembers Yokoyama. “Then you had NIGO, who was a massive expert on vintage clothing and had great style.”

The Ura-Harajuku scene and the brands to emerge from it would expand from a small underground community to a huge global movement, and Yokoyama would play a crucial part in that transition when she moved to London in 1993.

“My plan was to study English and go to make up school,” she explains. “One day, I was walking down the street and I met a guy called Barnzley. He recognized my Seditionaries clothes and was very curious about my UNDERCOVER clothes.”

Fate made it so that one of the first people Yokoyama met in London was one of its most well-connected people. Simon “Barnzley” Armitage is a fixture of London’s club scene and its underground subculture. As a shop guy for Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren, he took advantage of the store’s screen printer to make bootleg Chanel T-shirts before getting into deconstructing clothes. He’s donned many hats and worked on numerous projects throughout the years, including co-founding the label A Child of the Jago with Joe Corre — Westwood and McLaren’s punk progeny.

Yokoyama’s Seditionaries fit caught his eye immediately, and they connected over a shared love of clothes, music, and punk culture. Yokoyama was still looking for a room, and Barnzley actually had an opening at his flat, recently vacated by Spanish artist Luciana Martinez de la Rosa.

“I think Hitomi was quite happy to move into a flat full of cool clothes, art, and records,” recalls Barnzley. “Maybe not so happy I kept her up all night with loud music, girls, insane pop stars, and messy graffiti artists.”

Yokoyama admits she didn’t get much sleep thanks to the loud music, but describes the London she found as “like Disneyland.” With Barnzley as her cultural sherpa, she rubbed shoulders with Joe Corre, Nellee Hooper of The Wild Bunch, Paul Cook of The Sex Pistols, Primal Scream’s Bobby Gillespie, and Paul Simonon of The Clash. Many of the figures she previously only read about, that seemed worlds away in the translated pages of Japanese glossies, now became face-to-face acquaintances.

“Everybody seemed to be a pop star, artist or model,” she says. “It was nonstop ’til 4 a.m. most nights.”

In addition to putting Yokoyama on to London’s hippest clubs and clothing stores, Barnzley also introduced her to Cuts, an underground hair salon that was pretty much the city’s answer to Tokyo’s Ciao Bambina. Founded by the late James Lebon, younger brother of fashion photographer Mark Lebon, he created a template for a new breed of alternative hairdressers. Inspired by the DIY ethos of punk, Cuts was the first in a new type of independent hairdressers whose multi-ethnic aesthetic chimed with that of Ray Petri’s wabi-sabi Buffalo style.

“It was a hub for street fashion as there were shoots for i-D and The Face. It was also where you’d find out information on clubs, clothes, and all that culture,” Yokoyama says. “Working there was more like a very fashionable club than a hairdresser. It was my introduction to fashionable London.”

International Stüssy Tribe member Michael Kopelman was also a Cuts regular. In 1989, he founded Gimme 5 as a distribution company, spreading the gospel of Japanese streetwear by introducing brands like Neighborhood, UNDERCOVER, visvim, BAPE, and Hiroshi Fujiwara’s GOODENOUGH into ahead-of-the-game boutiques like Hit and Run (later renamed The Hideout). By 1995, Kopelman and Yokoyama’s mutual appreciation had grown to the point where he felt comfortable enough offering her a job. “We were both into similar things from Japan. Nobody else in London was,” he says succinctly.

With no previous background in art (and never even having worked on a computer before), Yokoyama’s strong sensibilities informed what would become Gimme 5’s aesthetic. Inspired by everything from Eames chairs, old record sleeves, and comic books, she taught herself to use programs like Illustrator, eventually designing a Gimme 5 clothing logo cribbed from Jack Kirby’s Fantastic Four comics. Her work went on to impress her friends back in Japan, leading to graphic work for UNDERCOVER, A Bathing Ape, Real Mad Hectic, and Let It Ride as well as New York brands like aNYthing.

By the mid-2000s, Yokoyama received a major profile boost when she designed a purple and maroon Air Stab for Nike’s sought-after 2006 Air-U-Breathe pack. She was inspired by the lightness of the sneaker, as well as images of rabbits and cats jumping around in her head, leading to the striking graphic on the heel she describes as “paws with eyes.” She followed it up in 2008 with a mostly gray Air Max 90 Current created under Nike’s Co-Lab program for the Beijing Olympics.

Despite her impressive pedigree, Hitomi Yokoyama’s work seems largely swept under the rug in the story of streetwear. Perhaps that’s because she’s always gone under the pseudonym “HIT.” It was a conscious decision on her part, creating an air of mystery around this cryptic, Japanese designer in the vein of a SK8THING or SKOLOCT.

“I started working with all these men’s brands and they wanted to the put the designer’s name on the shirts,” she says. “There weren’t many females around at the time, and I was worried that people from that scene would not take me seriously if they knew I was female. So with the alias HIT, I would not be discriminated against; it’s genderless.”

Yokoyama’s most prolific collabs aren’t just with products, but people. Through her friendships in Tokyo and London, she helped foster long-lasting relationships, like linking Mo Wax impresario James Lavelle and NYC graffiti writer Stash with NIGO. She also became especially close with the late, legendary stylist Judy Blame, who was the inspiration for Dior’s Fall/Winter 2020 men’s collection. Yokoyama is in the final stages of her own Judy Blame tribute, a brand called Available Nowhere that uses Blame’s archive on a series of T-shirts, jackets, shirts, and scarves.

Whatever she’s doing, Hitomi Yokoyama is eternally grateful for the chances London gave her as a wide-eyed young woman from Tokyo. She admits that if things hadn’t worked out abroad, she’d have probably moved back to Tokyo and worked at a Shinjuku sushi restaurant. Now she wants to pay that kindness forward to the next generation.

“I hope to work with artists, designers, and interesting people who might be not well-known,” she says. “I want to help young people with lots of energy learn from old people with experience.”

Words: Andy Thomas

[amuseoffyre]

Crossing Paths - 1868 - 1941 - The Estrangement

Welp, this was kind of inevitable. I kept seeing the Crowley-slept-through-the-19th-century thing and decided to roll with it ;) This is also the biggest chapter for this story, unsurprisingly. (Feel free to poke me with any queries re. history mentioned herein)

1868 – St. James’s Park, London

The fob watch was cold and heavy.

Aziraphale glanced anxiously at it again, then looked around the park. There was no sign of Crowley anywhere. Even the ducks were peering at the angel suspiciously, as if wondering why someone would be trying conspire alone.

It was dreadfully rare for Crowley to miss a meeting at their appointed rendezvous. The demon was occasionally late, which he claimed was a default state for him and his kind. That or obsessively punctual with no middle-ground. But this was the third time in as many years.

Aziraphale pocketed his watch, then resumed feeding handfuls of seed to the ducks, but it felt automatic, rather than a pleasure today.

He could remember the last words they had exchanged and now, thinking back on them, he wondered if he – they had both been too harsh. He had panicked. What else had Crowley expected of him, asking such a ridiculous thing?

Such a demand could only have one end and Crowley was not a demon to kill, which meant there was only one use he might have for the… the requested substance. He had not seemed suicidal, but sometimes with Crowley, it was very difficult to tell what he was thinking or planning.

No. No! He couldn’t let his mind wander down those roads again. Crowley was alive. He would have known if anything had happened to him. He would have. So it followed that Crowley was either very late or simply ignoring him.

I don’t need you.

Aziraphale pressed his lips together. Strange how much words could hurt as much as a blow. 

Rain started pattering down and he groped for the watch again. Almost an hour late now.

There was no point lingering in the rain. He dusted the seed off his gloves, then turned and made his way along the winding path by the pond towards the gates by Horseguards.

“Oh, I do hope he’s all right,” he murmured.

  1868 – Whitechapel, London

A sliver of daylight broke in between the curtains, cutting across the vast four-poster bed. It was the only item of furniture in the bare room apart from a small table, upon which there was a small pile of unopened letters, each one sealed with gold wax and stamped with an A. The floor was littered with bottles, some empty, some full, and the walls bare and blank except for a single drawing of an enigmatically-smiling woman.

“Gnah,” someone muttered from beneath a pile of blankets on the bed. A pale hand poke out and snapped its fingers. The curtains shifted and the daylight vanished.

A few seconds later, the pile of blankets resumed snoring.

  1871 – Holborn, London

The solitary man painted a forlorn portrait near the bar. The chair on the opposite side of the table had remained empty for much of the evening and by degrees, the man’s expression drifted from amiable to melancholic.

Theodore tapped his own glass against his lip. This was not a bar that gentlemen came to in order to sit alone. He smiled slightly, then made his way between the tables and chairs to sit down opposite the fair-haired man.

The man’s face lit up. “Crow–” He broke off, his expression giving way to misery once more. “Oh, I beg your pardon.”

“I could not help but notice you seemed terribly mournful,” Theodore said with his best and most winsome smile. “Can I be the one to cheer you?”

The man stared at him blankly for a moment. He was a charming-looking fellow, pleasantly plump with round cherubic cheeks and unruly blond curls in a halo about his head. “I– I’m afraid I’m waiting for someone.”

Theodore leaned forward. “You seem to have been waiting for a devilish long time.”

The man dropped his eyes to the cup between his hands, looking even more forlorn than before. “Yes,” he agreed unhappily. “Devilish long.”

Theodore leaned back in his chair, raising a hand to catch the barkeeper’s eye. “Then I shall keep you company until your friend arrives.” He adjusted his smile to a softer one that the more sentimental and discerning gentleman usually appreciated. “I’m sure he shan’t be long.”

The man’s expression brightened a little. “That’s awfully kind of you…” He hesitated. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

That, Theodore thought triumphantly, was always a promising sign. “Theodore Lockhart,” he said, extending his hand across the table to the man.

“Az… Um… Alexander Fell.” He reached out and politely shook Theodore’s hand. “Thank you.”

Theodore laughed warmly as the barkeeper approached with a bottle of Theodore’s favourite wine. “Oh, it’s purely self-indulgence, Alexander,” he said, surprised when the man didn’t protest the use of his Christian name. “You see, I was rather lonely too.”

“Oh?” The man gave Theodore his full attention for the first time and for a moment, Theodore felt his usual manners falter. Alexander’s eyes were intense and clear as if they could see right through him. Oh, he was lovely.

Perhaps it was terribly hasty, but he reached over and covered Alexander’s hand with one of his own. “Perhaps… we can be friends?”

Alexander’s gaze dropped to their hands. His own was motionless under Theodore’s and for a moment, Theodore wondered if he had made a terrible misjudgement. Then those remarkable eyes returned to his face. “Perhaps. For now, company will be enough.”

  1871 – Whitechapel, London

The room was still dark. The frame of the painting was a little dustier. So were the blankets on the bed. A single foot poked out from beneath the covers, scalier and darker than a foot had any right to be.

 1876 – Oxford

“I knew it would impress you!”

Aziraphale smiled indulgently at his human companion. He had had several of them in the past few years, though inevitably they all drifted away. Each of them seemed to expect something of him – some ineffable thing they dared not speak of – which he lacked to means to understand or to give.

If he was to be entirely honest with himself, some small part of him was relieved.

They were sweet-natured young men, charming and enthusiastic, but they lacked something, and if they chose to withdraw from him, then he didn’t have to worry about it. It was far worse to be left behind by someone you believed had cared.

I have plenty of other people to fraternise with.

As much as he hated to admit it, he still missed the damned demon, no matter how many lovely young men he crossed paths with.

Still, Crowley was the one who had stopped responding to his messages, so eventually, Aziraphale had reached out to find every letter he had sent since that awful day in the park and turned them to ash where they lay. If Crowley was going to ignore him, then he would… just do the same thing.

So far, he had managed to go almost five years without sending any messages. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t written them. There was an embarrassingly large stack that he tried to ignore every time he sat down at his desk. But they hadn’t been sent. That was the important thing.

“The architecture has always been quite splendid,” he said as Nicodemus slipped his arm through Aziraphale’s.

Nicodemus – son of an upstanding merchant – had bumped into him when the angel had given a reading in the British Museum. It been a peculiar whim after one too many nights alone in his shop, an empty glass sitting on the table.

And so, he had done a reading of Mediaeval literature and his latest companion had attended.

He was a student at the university, in town to visit the museum, and had been appalled to hear that Aziraphale had not visited Oxford for at least twenty years. It was really closer to one-hundred and fifty, but the young man didn’t need to know that. Another peculiar whim.

Call it what it is, angel, he chided himself. A distraction.

“That’s not all I brought you here for,” Nicodemus confided, his dark eyes shining. “I have someone who is dying to meet you.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale tried to maintain his smile. More often than not, his companions’ friends had proved less than stimulating company. “And who might that be?”

For once, it was someone who proved entirely worth meeting.

The long-limbed young man unfolded from his couch as Aziraphale and Nicodemus entered. He was tall, with compelling features that were not quite handsome. His hair dark hair was tumbling about his shoulders, his clothes exquisite and far more extravagant than the average human’s.

“Oscar,” Nicodemus sounded beside himself with giddiness. “This is my… friend, Mr. Fell. Mr. Fell, this is my good chum, Oscar Wilde.”

Aziraphale offered his hand to the young man, fascinated. One could always spot an artist. They had a particular energy about them and this one… oh, he positively glowed. “A delight to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wilde.”

A flash of a smile crossed the young man’s face. “My friends,” he said, his mellifluous voice rich as honey, “call me Oscar.”

  1876 – Whitechapel, London

A spider scuttled across the pillow, scrambling over a motionless hand.

There was a quiet grumble from the depths of the bedding, then the hand moved, twitching the spider away. The same hand reached down, leaving the covers as little as possible, groping around on the floor.

It made two journeys.

One for one of the few full bottles that remained and the other for the chamber pot.

Twenty minutes later, the pile of blankets started snoring again.

  1882 – Portland Place, London

“If you’re absolutely sure I won’t be imposing?”

Lord Arthur Somerset grinned at the man sitting opposite him in the carriage. “Entering at my side? You’ll be welcomed like a Prince, Master Fell.”

The fair-haired man smiled bashfully. “Well, there’s no need for that.”

Somerset regarded him with fond amusement. The man was not a gentleman by the commonly accepted standards, but they had crossed paths at one salon or another and had fallen in together quite nicely. Fell was a little older than Somerset himself, well-spoken, eloquent and well-educated. Not the type that usually caught his eye at all.

However, he had a particular naïve charm which had fascinated the aristocrat far more than it ought to have and which vexed him even more when Fell seemed utterly oblivious to his more pressing advances.

“Ah!” Somerset declared as the carriage drew up outside the building. “Here we are.” He gave Fell a wicked smile. “You still can change your mind. I’m not here to tempt you, after all.”

Fell smiled back at him, although for a moment, it almost looked forced. “Well, I’m here now and I would quite like to see what all the fuss is about.”

Somerset stepped down from the carriage first, then offered Fell his hand to assist him down. Most other men would have recoiled or puffed up in indignation, but Fell only took his hand, smiled that charming smile of his and said “thank you” as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Somerset darted a tongue along his lower lip.

Once the man saw the inside of the club, surely he would grasp Arthur’s intentions towards him. After all, the Hundred Guineas Club had a particular kind of reputation and even someone as refreshingly innocent as Fell couldn’t fail to notice that.

He offered Fell his arm. “Will you join me, then?”

Fell’s smile creased lines into the softness of his face. “I would be delighted.”

   1882 – Whitechapel, London

One of the pillows had ended up on the floor. A foot was resting on the other. The owner of the foot was buried back under the wine-stained blankets. His head hadn’t emerged for almost six months.

  1900 – Paris

“Oh, my dear…”

Oscar forced his eyes open, though it took what little strength he had left. The door had not opened, nor had he heard the ascent of anyone upon the creaking staircase, but a man was seated by him on the very lip of the bed, his ageless face stricken with grief.

“Mr. Fell,” he breathed, every word a throbbing blade through his skull. “A pleasure.”

The man leaned closer, gathering up Oscar’s hand to his breast as if to keep him from slipping from the mortal coil. “I ought to have come sooner,” he said, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “It has all been so dreadful and then I heard you were ill…”

Oscar closed his eyes, drawing a slow and aching breath. “Nonsense,” he murmured. “I could not ask that of you.”

Fell laid his hand, light as featherdown, on Oscar’s chest and for a moment, the pain in his head receded like a wave ebbing from the shore. “All the same,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

It was if the chill of the damp little room had been swept away. There was comfort and warmth of a sort that Oscar had only ever written, thrumming through his weary body down to his bones, brushing aside all shame and bitterness and anger.

He opened his eyes to look at Fell.

Even though the room was dark, the windows shuttered against the winter’s bitter cold, Fell shone as bright as a sun.

“Who are you?” Oscar breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. “What are you?”

Fell – if that was even his name – smiled his heart-breakingly beautiful smile. “I’m your friend,” he whispered.

And behind him, wings of purest divine light unfurled and, for the last moments of his life, Oscar could swear he looked upon the face of Heaven.

  1900 – Whitechapel, London

Someone had decided that the property must be empty after so many years. Made sense. No one had come or gone in almost half a century. Who wouldn’t try and break into a place like that and see if they couldn’t steal a bit more space for themselves and their family.

The bold – and stupid – intruder went in bravely enough.

When he came out, he was grey-faced, his hair turned white as snow, and for seventh months, he didn’t say a word.

And when he finally spoke, he only had two words.

“Stay away.”

  1916 – Verdun-sur-Meuse

It would have been a lovely summer’s afternoon, if not for the bombardment.

Aziraphale had always hated battlefields, but with every leap forward in the weapons of war, they became more bloody and terrible. The best he could do was offer flickers of hope and once in a while, a whisper of a miracle. They were becoming fewer and further between as hope faltered and the mud churned up, scarlet and black and rotting.

He had broken his promise to himself.

He had tried his utmost to be resolved, to show Crowley that he was neither needed nor wanted, but Lord, he was so very tired.

He had written. Once in 1914, when he felt the tremors through Europe of the coming war, then again after Ypres. And then, every battle, he had sat among the soldiers on either side, scratching letters, sending them with a prayer that they would reach him.

A dozen letters, maybe more, and not a single response.

He had hoped that Crowley would remember all the battlefields they had walked before. There had been so many. It felt strange to face a battle without the demon there, picking at him, teasing him and making faces at him from the opposite side.

Aziraphale turned his face towards the sun, where it was peeping over the edge of the trench.

Was it too much to hope that their friendship counted for something? He was so sure it had. Surely… surely, such a little argument couldn’t undo all those centuries and millennia? Yes, Crowley could be stubborn, but surely not that stubborn.

He rubbed at his eyes, sunspots dancing behind his lids, then sighed and miracled up another piece of paper.

It’s lovely here today. It reminds me of Noricum in the summer. Do you remember that siege? Those damned boars? Less Celts, although it smells about the same. If you have a little time–

He gazed down at the paper, then crushed it in his hand.

So many letters and no response. Why expect one now?

Further down the trench, there was a shout and the soldiers started mobilising. Aziraphale got back to his feet, aching with fatigue. It was going to be a long year.

 1917 – Whitechapel

The blankets had disintegrated and been replaced with newer, bigger ones. There were more crates of wine on the floor. Possibly miracled. He wasn’t sure. Didn’t really care, as long as the world stayed nice and fuzzy and quiet and with no stupid thoughts about any stupid angels and their stupid stupid moral high grounds.

Crowley shoved his head deeper under the pillows.

He didn’t hear the whisper of the neglected, dusty pile of letters slipping over on the table and spilling onto the floor.

  1941 – Soho, London

Aziraphale straightened his tie and smoothed the lines of his coat.

As much as he hated to admitted, there was something invigorating about playing against type.

It was – he was absolutely certain – nothing to do with almost a millennia of performing both temptations and blessings. No. Certainly not. But who wouldn’t like to outwit the latest evil to rise from the mind of humanity?

It was a gloomy night, the moon a thin crescent. The perfect night for villainy and mischief.

He smiled as he picked up the bundle of books. Or for thwarting it.

  1941 – Whitechapel

Two years was a hell of a long time to try and shake a hangover.

‘Parently, there was in fact a threshold for the amount of booze a single demon could imbibe without being physically capable of willing himself sober. That had been a long bugger of a lesson to live through.

Still, it’d given him a bit of time to catch up on things he’d missed while he was having a nap.

There’d been a few wars. One bloody big one from the sound of it. ‘Great’. Humans always did like to use weird words to describe awful things. Not that he felt guilty about leaving the angel in the deep end. Nope. Not at all. Wasn’t like they’d done a mess of wars together.

Weren’t even any messages from the bastard. Not one.

Okay, yeah, there were some suspiciously papery-looking piles of ash on his table and his floor, but Az– the angel would never destroy the written word. S’like an allergic reaction. He’d probably come out in hives over it.

Crowley rubbed at his eyes again. They felt like they’d been replaced with two dusty snooker balls, grating against the inside of his eyelids.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” He focussed all his wobbly power inwards, around the still thumping headache, and almost cried – in a very cool and manly way – when he felt the alcohol finally seeping out of his system. The pain in his head vanished and the world stopped spinning just enough for him to sag with relief. “Thank G– er… me.”

It took another couple of hours before his brain felt like it wasn’t about to dribble out of his ear.

It was another three before – just out of morbid curiosity – he let his awareness stretch out. Not because he wanted to check on him or anything, but just to see where the stupid angel was.

Huh.

In the city. North bank of the Thames. In a bloody church of all places.

Crowley paused, frowning.

Carefully, he let his power do a rerun through his sodden corporation, because he couldn’t be sensing what his still-kind-of-pickled brain was telling him was there. Then he focussed on the church and the other people inside it. Their souls had a very, very familiar flavour and he risked a taste of their intentions.

“Oh holy fuck!”

  1941 – Soho, London

Aziraphale had been quiet for the whole drive back to his shop.

Crowley wasn’t sure what he could say.

The minute he saw his bloody stupid angel standing in the church – even though he was surrounded by Nazis and had a gun pointed at him – all the anger he’d been trying to drown out with far, far, far too much alcohol evaporated like it had never been there.

Even if Aziraphale had seemed annoyed to see him, even if he’d been forced to dance about like an idiot to avoid getting his feet burned, even if they’d parted on bad terms, all he could think about was the fact that Aziraphale would be all right.

And his books, of course. He would have been useless if he’d lost his books. Probably even done something as stupid as get infinitely drunk and unconscious for a few decades.

Still, eighty years was a long time. They hadn’t been apart for that long, not for millennia, and finding the words to fill in the gap seemed impossible.

“Here we are then,” he finally broke the silence as he pulled up outside the shop. He’d even driven a bit slower than usual, but that was mostly because of bombs. Almost mostly. Partly.

Aziraphale didn’t immediately move to get out. “Crowley,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands, which were wrapped around the handle of the stolen Nazi case which he had on his lap.

“Yeah?”

“Where… where were you?”

Crowley fiddled with the steering wheel of the Bentley. “Um.”

Aziraphale took a small, quiet breath. “It– I was worried.”

“Ohhhh…” Crowley winced, trying his best to sound casual. “You know me. I keep out of trouble.”

“Yes.” He heard the rustle of fabric and turned his head to find Aziraphale gazing at him. God, he’d missed that stupid bloody angel. “I remember.” Aziraphale looked like he was trying not to cry, a weak smile crossing his lips. “Did you have a good time?”

Enough alcohol to resink the Titanic. Miserably hiding away from everything and everyone. Avoiding the only person who had ever given a shit about him.

For once, he didn’t want to bluff and act like everything was fine. “No.” He tried to force a smile. “It was rubbish.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked back down at the case. “Would– I have a bottle of Chateau-neuf–”

The thought of any more drinks made Crowley’s stomach twist. “No.”

The angel’s face fell. “Oh.”

God, he hated seeing him like that, especially when they were finally finding their way back to some kind of truce.

“I had a rough couple of… decades…” He winced again. “No wine, yeah? Maybe – and I can’t believe I’m saying this – a cup of tea?”

It was as if he’d switched a light on behind Aziraphale’s eyes. “Oh, that would be lovely. I may even have some biscuits.”

Crowley couldn’t help laughing at that. “Of course you do.” He pushed his door open. “C’mon then, angel.”

When Aziraphale beamed at him, he couldn’t keep from smiling in response.

[revivebt]

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[gunmadlin]

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four) Medical Questionnaire & Consultation

Your therapeutic rub therapist should really demand you to very make smile inside of a easy clinical questionnaire to avow any health-linked situations which can avoid you from owning therapeutic smooth. For instance any campaigner accidents or functions, wounds, infections and many others. For sure circumstances you may continue to Possess a daub but might require penned entry out of your Medical professional that its Okay to yet have rub.

Should you be as pension of your first trimester of pregnancy, its recommended not to acquire therapeutic rub and a specialist therapist will know This could they look it something taking into account your consultation type.

Consultation become primeval is likewise a delightful epoch to avowal what your principal issues are or if you can deem any flavor's you'd as soon as your rub therapist to undertaking most upon. Its along with a time to ensure you've been booked in for the right variety of therapeutic smooth for you, for instance you'll have been booked in for any 'Swedish Therapeutic rub' but it's possible seeking a 'Deep Tissue' therapeutic smear.

five) Your Massage Therapist

Sometimes the size or age of a daub therapist may be decieving. I am five ft and without help 6 in combined to a 50 % stone but I am use to massaging bodybuilders as a consequences my campaigning is enormously hermetically sealed Although I appear really tiny. Massage therapists create their defeat by utilizing a union of toughness as adeptly as their utterly own entire body body weight to play a enjoyable company rub.

Also i've properly trained numerous 18 year olds who are merely beautiful much as fine as therapeutic daub therapists which have many years of in leisure doings experience. It relies upon how ablaze your therapist is nearly her approach. If she enjoys therapeutic rub which is flaming up Then you definitely will anew likely have a colossal remedy.

6) The Massage Procedure

Its not unheard of for transforming period and simulation to be included in your massage period in view of that benefit create unadulterated you intend to come to an contract upon to your treatment method bed as hurriedly as attainable for that gloss you can get your hands on totaling palms promptly.

Your massage therapist should in fact Test if you are heat ample and cozy bolster on they inauguration your therapeutic massage. Many salons and spa's have enjoyable comforting songs taking share in within the background which in fact boosts the getting sticking together of.

You are competent to often warn the difference along amid a in fact utterly pleasing massage therapist and 1 that's not approaching as to your liking. A totally satisfying therapeutic massage therapist will likely be related intuitively and can know the precise breathing to use, they'll moreover know which heavens's must be worked upon the most as soon as no have to share upon taking into consideration a robotic program of just massage events.

7) Aftercare

Your therapist should really supply you back the precise aftercare which incorporates drinking immense quantity of drinking water to maintenance hydrated and retain to flush absent any toxins. Your massage therapist must moreover have enough keep advice you that you could be a bit delicate the adjacent hours of daylight in the set against ahead than the regions they have worked upon.